


Requiem Bell (Lorne, Novak and Stackhouse)

by river_soul



Category: Stargate Atlantis (Slight AU)
Genre: Gen, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 02:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1712045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/river_soul/pseuds/river_soul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wondered who went back for the bodies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Requiem Bell (Lorne, Novak and Stackhouse)

"No one is ever gone as long as someone still has memories of them."

 

It was stiflingly hot in the midday sun at Arlington Cemetery.

Dr. Lindsey Novak saw the tourists in the distance, heard the laughter of their children and smelled the freshly turned earth. She’d never been to a military funeral before and she felt out of place and unsure, the length of her heels sinking into the ground as they waited for the casket bearers. She recognized a few of them under the harsh glare of the sun. Their faces were hard, brows flinty and sweaty. They seemed to struggle for a grip on the handles in their white gloves as they loaded it into the caisson carefully.

The small crowd surged forward with the sound of the clackety clack of the horses' hooves on the pavement and for a moment she was lost within the men and women dressed in the sharp Air Force blues. Most of their faces were blank, focused, but Novak could tell the ones from Atlantis. Their eyes were full and heavy, they’d seen too many of these, heard the sharp call of the bugle, and wondered when it would be their turn.

She shivered despite the warmth and watched two men lay the flag over his casket when it was placed on the ground with care. The field of blue stars was near where she imaged his head would be and they saluted it before the Chaplin began. He read the passages Novak expected _The Lord is my Shepard, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures_ and she remembered.

_The rapid fire of the P-90 died to a low hum in her mind. Novak could hear Lorne shouting at his men, caught the grim resolve on his face as he twisted around to return fire. Beneath her Markham was squirming, eyes rolling and he might have been screaming but she couldn’t be sure. It was so loud and there was blood all over her hands, it poured between her fingers. She could see it glistening wetly on his dark uniform and around the torn flesh of his stomach through the hole in his vest. It was warm to the touch, slick between her fingers as it turned the white handkerchief she pressed to his side a deep red._

_This wasn’t what she signed up for. She wasn’t a solider. She wasn’t even supposed to be here but she did her panicking earlier, a terrified keening sound that swallowed any hiccup that might have come bursting out. She hadn’t been able to breathe, to work out any words around her frozen mouth before Lorne had appeared beside her. Her face still stung from his sharp slap. “I need you to be with me, ok?” he asked and held her face between his warm hands. “Now I need you to keep pressure on his stomach. Can you do that?” he had asked, voice softer as she regarded him with terrified eyes. She nodded. “You’re a brave girl, you’re a brave girl,” he had repeated until she believed him._

She flinched at the sound of the rifle volley. _One, two, three_ ; and then she could hear the bugler from somewhere behind her begin his song. She watched the men fold his flag and she could see their fingers shake and tremble with effort and fisted her hands. She didn’t imagine it would feel like this. She barely knew the man beyond his easy smile and gentle manner but he died protecting her.

_Markham was going to die. She could see it in Lorne’s eyes as he talked softly to him. “I’m not gonna make it, am I, sir?” he asked and coughed violently, a speck of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth. Novak looked away._

_“Yes you are,” Lorne said and touched Markham’s face. His tone was soft, reassuring, and Novak thought briefly it was how he would talk to his children. “You’re going to live and come back to Atlantis and let me kick your ass at poker again.” He said while Markham grew whiter beneath Novak. He smiled at Lorne before he gave a final shuttering gasp and then Lorne pulled her shaking hands away from his blood soaked abdomen. “You did a good job,” he told her._

_“I’m sorry,” she said and wiped at the tears on her face. “Oh god, I’m so sorry.”_

_“It’s ok. Everything’s going to be ok,” he promised and then Novak blinked, face suddenly wet. Lorne was slumped over Markham, his face unrecognizable and blood scalding on her skin. She didn’t cry or scream then because she saw Dr. Bojor take a bullet to the head earlier before they knew what was happening, and she couldn’t muster up enough of her courage to even cry out. It was easier to be numb. She knew she should take his gun but she couldn’t bring herself to touch his dead body. Most of the other scientists were already dead and she couldn’t see anymore of the airmen that came with them through the gate. She never thought she’d die like this._

“Ma’am,” Stackhouse said to her in a low voice once the buglers call faded and her tears dried. The strong line of his jaw was tight and she could read the rigidity in his shoulders as he held Lorne’s flag in his hands. “We give you this flag with the thanks of a grateful nation,” he told her, and she knew he’d accept Markhams flag at the funeral tomorrow.

Novak nodded, it was all she could do while she took the flag and felt grief burrowing up her throat for a man she barley knew. A man she helped die. She didn’t feel right holding the flag close to her chest but Lorne had no family, no one to take his flag. It fell to her, Elizabeth told her softly half a world away, because he died with her.

_“It was the Genii,” Stackhouse said at the briefing days later, “by the time we got back from patrol they had the Major and his group pinned down. They’d suffered heavy causalities, most of the scientific party was already dead,” told them, face ashen. “We were able to extract Dr. Novak before gating out,” he finished and everyone looked to her. She wondered who went back for the bodies._

_“I know this is hard,” said Dr. Weir when Novak just stared blankly at her and Caldwell. “Just take it from the beginning,” she urged with a soft voice and warm hand on her shoulder. Novak stared at her own hands and the warped metal of the dog tags, felt them turn warm under her fingers as he ran her hand across his name. Mark Lorne. They gleamed hollow silver in the pale Atlantean light. Someone must have cleaned them she thought; someone must have scrubbed away his blood._

_It was probably Sheppard, standing in the corner wearing a mask of guilt. It wasn’t his fault; he wasn’t even there she thought and looked to Stackhouse who was staring at the gleaming tabletop. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to forget the look on his face when he found them. The last time she’d seen him he’d been laughing but when he saw his leader and teammates dead at her feet his face had been cold and hard._

_She looked to Elizabeth and Caldwell and wanted to tell him how brave Lorne had been, how gentle and noble he’d turned under death. “He just died,” Novak said finally and felt like a coward . “He just died.”_

The crowd left one by one until only Stackhouse and she remained. She ventured forward, hesitant and scared. The flag felt heavy in her hand. “Is that it?” she asked finally, voice shaking.

“Yeah." His voice was quiet and controlled. "I’ll stay to keep a vigil until the body,” and then he choked on the word but Novak didn’t reach out for him, “is interred into the ground later. It’s tradition.”

“Can I stay with you?” she asked after a moment, surprised by her own question.

_“He asked me to take his body back, filled out the forms before we left,” Stackhouse told her and she found she couldn’t face him. “I don’t-” he started and then stopped, a strangled sound caught in his throat and she remembered Markham’s last gasping breath. She moved closer to him, let their thighs touch but didn’t take his hand or touch his shoulder in understanding or relief. She didn’t have the right to comfort him._

_“He was very brave,” she said stupidly and swallowed the lump in her throat. She’d written the same thing in the letter to her mother, the one that had started out with ‘A man died for me today, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do.’ She hadn’t sent it; probably wouldn’t send it because her mother, tucked safely away on earth, wouldn’t understand. Novak wasn’t sure she even deserved understanding. She had let him die._

“Ok,” he said softly. He sounded relieved and then his shoulders began to shake silently with tears he couldn’t find. Novak took his hand in hers finally; she didn’t trust her voice not to break. She wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t known Mark Lorne well enough to know what to say to make Stackhouse laugh and think of better times with the man who was probably his brother and friend.

She cleared her throat when he stilled next to her and felt the scratch of his glove against her sweaty hand. She’d always been awkward at life in general, and loss was something she’d viewed with terrified detachment; but when words began to solidify in her mouth she knew they were right, so she spoke them. “Tell me about him,” she asked and rested her hand on the curve of his casket.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Also, new [tumblr](http://river-soul.tumblr.com/) friends are always welcome!


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